Chapter 322 Suzuka’s Overwhelming Power

With the goblin slaves and hatchlings scuttling toward safety, Suzuka and her team sprang into action. The shabby doors of the tunnel burst open, and the team charged through, creating a path to safety for the terrified goblins.

Suzuka unleashed her gravity magic. Every evil goblin that came into her sight was crushed instantly, their bodies collapsing under immense force. The ground trembled with each use of her power, adding to the chaos of the battlefield.

Larry and the rest of the team split up, going on a relentless killing spree. Larry's sword cleaved through goblins with deadly precision, his movements a blur of lethal grace. Mia, with her dual daggers flashing, danced through the melee, slashing throats and severing limbs with unmatched agility. Max, from his high vantage point, rained down arrows, each one finding its mark with deadly accuracy. Jake mouled any evil goblin that stood in his way with his battle axe. Olivia stayed in the tunnel guarding the slaves.

One after another, goblin slaves burst inside the tunnel, their miserable thighs burning with exhaustion from pumping so furiously. Their breaths came in ragged gasps, eyes wide with terror and hope as they fled their tormentors. The tunnel echoed with the desperate sound of their bare feet slapping against the cold stone floor.

Some of the slaves, too weak to continue, stumbled and fell to the ground, their hatchlings tumbling from their arms with painful yelps and squeals. The tiny creatures, no bigger than a palm, scrambled to their feet, their wide eyes filled with fear and confusion. Their cries were heart-wrenching, a chorus of pure despair that cut through the din of battle.

Larry, slicing through another wave of enemies, glanced back at the tunnel, his heart swelling with pride and relief as he saw the goblins escaping.

 "We've got them, Helen! They're making it out!"

Jake, standing beside him, nodded grimly.

 "But we need to hold the line. We can't let any of these bastards get past us."

Mia, panting but undeterred, twirled her daggers and grinned. 

"Let them come. We'll send every last one of them to hell."

Max, drawing another arrow, aimed an approaching goblin and released. The arrow flew true, embedding itself in the goblin's skull. 

"I've got your backs. Just keep them off the slaves."

The scene erupted into chaos as soon as Suzuka and her team launched their surprise attack. Any evil goblin that dared to charge fell swiftly by either the blade or a torrent of magic. The clash of steel and the crackling of energy filled the night air, painting a picture of absolute mayhem. Within moments, the entire camp was roused, and evil goblins scrambled in confusion.

The master goblin of the breeding farm, flanked by his royal guards, stormed into the fray. He was a formidable sight, towering over the other goblins with a sneer of authority etched on his face. Despite being one of the largest breeding farms, his guards were only a few orcs and gobliman - menacing but not invincible. Before the master goblin could bark out any orders to restore order, Suzuka unleashed her gravity magic with devastating force. The ground beneath the goblin master and his elite warriors buckled and crumbled, forming a massive crater that swallowed them whole. Their screams were cut short, leaving only silence and the settling dust as a sign of Suzuka’s overwhelming power.

The remaining evil goblins were thrown into a blind panic. The semblance of order disintegrated as guards, stripped of their leader, turned and fled in every direction. Pandemonium ensued as they scrambled for any possible escape. Some, in sheer terror, leaped over the walls and darted toward the forest. Their escape attempts were short-lived as blood-curdling screams echoed back into the camp, signaling their gruesome end at the claws of predators lurking in the forest shadows of the night.

Others, in a desperate bid to hide, crammed themselves into broken crates and barrels, but their efforts were futile. Suzuka’s team showed no mercy, cutting them down where they cowered. Some of the more desperate and less intelligent goblins frantically tried to dig holes to bury themselves, hoping to disappear from sight. A few even dove headfirst into the foul-smelling dumping pits where waste was discarded, thinking it might save them from the relentless onslaught.

During the carnage, the survivors - Hermit and his fellow goblins - embraced each other with joy and disbelief. Their faces, once etched with suffering, now glowed with the light of newfound freedom. Tears flowed freely as they hugged and peppered each other with tiny kisses of care and compassion, their hearts soaring with the realization that their nightmare was finally over.

Suzuka and her team, having dispatched the remaining evil goblins, began scouring the breeding farm grounds for any hidden threats. They moved through the gruesome scene, their eyes sharp and weapons ready. After a thorough search, they were convinced that no evil goblins were left alive. 

With the immediate danger eliminated, Suzuka's focus shifted to the wretched slaves. She signaled to her team, and they sprang into action, moving toward the cages and torture devices with urgency. The sight that met their eyes was heart-wrenching: goblins of all ages, beaten and broken, were chained and confined in grotesque contraptions designed for maximum pain and humiliation.

As Suzuka and her team began freeing the captives, Hermit, Timbo, and a few other goblin slaves, who had taken a brief respite during the battle, emerged from the tunnel. They moved with a mix of urgency and disbelief, their eyes wide with the horror of the scene. They began to assist their fellow goblins, cutting bonds and offering what first aid they could.

The air was thick with the mingled scents of blood, sweat, and despair, each breath a reminder of the suffering they had endured. The freed goblins, many of them too weak to stand, were gently laid on the ground by their comrades, their frail bodies shaking from exhaustion and pain. It was a scene of chaotic tenderness, a heartbreaking tableau of resilience and solidarity.

The goblins, their faces etched with lines of anguish and fear, huddled together, seeking solace in each other's presence. Their bodies bore the brutal marks of their captivity: scars crisscrossed their skin, some wounds still fresh and oozing, others long-healed but forever marring their flesh. Limbs were twisted and broken, and many goblins limped or crawled, too weak to walk upright.

During the sorrowful scene, goblins hugged each other tightly, their bony arms trembling with the effort. They wept openly, tears mingling with the dirt and blood that streaked their faces. Their sobs were guttural, raw cries that spoke of the countless years spent in chains, the relentless beatings, and the crushing weight of hopelessness that had once consumed them.

Whispers of comfort and reassurance floated through the air, fragile threads of hope within the overwhelming despair.

"We are free now," one goblin murmured, cradling a wounded comrade in his arms. 

"No more beatings, no more whip."

Despite their physical frailty, there was a sense of relief among the goblins. The burden of their past lives as slaves had been lifted, if only for a moment. Their eyes, though sunken and weary, sparkled with a newfound light, a flicker of hope that had long been extinguished.

In one corner, a young goblin gently wiped the tears from an older goblin's face, his touch tender and filled with compassion.

 "It's over now," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the sounds of weeping.

 "We can finally rest."

The older goblin, his face a map of suffering, nodded weakly.

 "I thought I would die in those chains," he rasped, his voice choked with emotion. 

"But we made it. We survived. We endured, endured it all..."

As the goblins tended to each other, the reality of their freedom began to sink in. The bonds of their shared suffering had forged a deep sense of solidarity, a silent promise to support one another through whatever lay ahead. 

Hermit and Timbo, their hearts pounding, led Suzuka toward the largest tent in the camp. This tent, they knew, was where the hatchlings were held - a place of unimaginable cruelty and despair. The sight of the tent sent shivers down their spines, but they steeled themselves and pressed forward.

As they approached, the foul stench of decay and filth assaulted their senses. Hermit hesitated for a moment, his body trembling with the weight of his memories. Timbo placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and together, they pushed aside the heavy flap of the tent and stepped inside.

The interior was suffocatingly dark, the only light trickling in from the narrow opening of the tent they entered. As their eyes adjusted to the dimness, the scene that met their gaze was one of unspeakable horror and brutality. Hundreds of tiny hatchlings, no larger than a human palm, were crammed into the cramped, filthy space of the tent. The stench of rot and waste was overwhelming, the air thick with the reek of suffering.

Piles upon piles of mangled, stinking hatchlings lay writhing in their filth, squirming like maggots in manure. The floor was a disgusting mess, covered in layers of feces and decomposing remains, a sickening sign of their neglect and abuse. The air was thick with the putrid stench of decay and excrement, so foul that it clung to the skin and seeped into the very soul. The cries of the hatchlings were a chorus of agony, their tiny, emaciated bodies twisted in unnatural shapes, covered in festering sores, and crawling with parasites. Each pitiful movement they made was a desperate attempt to escape their horrific environment, but there was no reprieve in sight.

The hatchlings’ eyes, wide and glassy with terror, darted about in panic, searching for any hint of relief that would never come. Their tiny limbs flailed weakly, often entangling with the lifeless bodies of their siblings, adding to the chaotic tangle of misery. The stronger ones tried to crawl over the weaker, only to slip and fall back into the morass of filth, their cries piercing the heavy air.

The walls of the enclosure were smeared with filth, evidence of their frantic attempts to climb away from the nightmare below. The ceiling dripped with moisture, a grim mix of condensation and bodily fluids that created a constant, nauseating drizzle. 

The ground beneath them was a breeding ground for disease, a festering swamp of waste and decay. The putrid muck squelched underfoot, each step releasing a new wave of unbearable stench. Flies buzzed in dense clouds, drawn by the rancid aroma and the promise of easy sustenance. The hatchlings were too weak to swat them away, their skin too fragile to bear the constant assault of the insects' bites.